


You, I, (and Everything Between)

by itsevanffs



Series: Limerence [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Death, Gen, Green Eyes, Souls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-04
Updated: 2019-09-04
Packaged: 2020-10-10 03:49:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20521460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsevanffs/pseuds/itsevanffs
Summary: He understood now.





	You, I, (and Everything Between)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [skittykitty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/skittykitty/gifts).

He understood now.

How had he been so deeply blinded? Full of hate, so off-course. It was an act most stupid he committed.

He does not understand, why, blind as he was, when he had hesitated for that fateful moment -or was it fateful? His fate was sealed- and had gazed into those beautiful, avada kedavra eyes, he had not realised.

By the Gods above, the splitting of his soul was a burden more than its blessing of immortality, with the way it depleted his magic and ruined his sanity. Even now, a shadow, a vision in one's peripheral, a cluster of emotions and thoughts -he had fought so hard for control, but in the end, it was who _he_ was- was all that remained of him.

Truthfully, he was glad to be immortal so he could be reunited with the boy. Of course, he needn't be reunited with him -Gods, he'd already _have_ him- had he not split his soul and lost his sanity.

Death was here too, taunting him- Voldemort was no longer able to fear it, given its constant proximity. At times, it was an almost welcome presence compared to the morbidly prevalent lack of external stimuli. There was, of course, the darkness, but Voldemort -what an awful name- was not in the right state of mind to debate wether darkness was the absence of light or its own phenomenon -he assumed both- so he just let it be.

One time, or day, or eternity, or no time, Death came by once more and Tom -he'd decided he preferred such a name, much like 'Harry'; rather simplistic and utterly meaningful- decided to ask it a question of importance.

'How long have I been here?'

Death stilled, its limb, which represented a horrid, clawed hand, inches from Tom's cheek. It did not answer.

'Time is of no importance here. Death is death, as it is me, for I have witnessed men die an eternity over, and children sleep forever peacefully eons ago, and women lay their head to rest for the last time many years to come,' it said instead.

Tom assumed it knew but did not care to tell him. He didn't really mind, in the end.

Tom dreamt, sometimes. About the boy. Of his avada green eyes -it'd always been his favourite colour- and his thin, pale pink lips.

He absentmindedly wishes for a handsome body when he will inevitably rise once more, when he is ripped from the darkness, and all he can see is avada green and he _smiles._

You, Me, (and Everything Between)

_Aka Lord Voldemort has an epiphany._

**Author's Note:**

> This was written when the house was little more but silent, and the air was warm and still. It felt like death.
> 
> Thus this was conceived.


End file.
